


Dear Newt

by lovingyouwasred



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8307550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingyouwasred/pseuds/lovingyouwasred
Summary: "The spaces between the times you miss the people you lost grow longer. Then, when you do remember to miss them again, it's still with a stabbing pain to the heart. And you have guilt. Guilt because it's been too long since you missed them last.” (The 13th sign).Or a series of letters Thomas writes to Newt about his life, his friends and his losses in Paradise. He's trying to get his will to live back. He's trying to fight again, this time himself instead of the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the Maze Runner universe, nor Thomas or Newt (although I wish).
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! :)

_“Dear Newt,_

_It’s day 76 in Paradise and I guess we could say we are settling in._

_We are remembering what’s it’s like to feel safe again. We allow ourselves to hope nothing bad will come our way. Nobody can say exactly where we are and Brenda keeps her secrets very fiercely. The Flat trans is broken so there’s no going back. I guess our life is here now, away from all those people still dying, but also away from those who want to harm us. Who harmed you._

_There’s so much green and forests here, I can’t even begin to describe it. It reminds me of the Glade, but bigger, greener, healthier. I’d never thought I’d have fresh air filling my lungs. I guess I’m lucky I get to feel human again._

_But… there are not enough of us left. Just a small community in a fight of survival. We started hunting, building shelters. We hope that one day this could really be home and we could give humanity another chance. Hell, I don’t even want to re-read that sentence. It reminds me too much of WICKED. Maybe different means to the same goal, yeah?_

_I don’t feel very cheerful these days. Truth to be told, nobody does._

_Minho assumed the lead of the community, divided us into groups and started preparing the camp. But you can see it in his posture he’s not the same person he was before. He jokes less. His smiles are fading. And every time he says something he finds witty or funny, he glances to his right with a smirk that disappears as quickly as it came. I think he still hopes he’ll see you there, rolling his eyes at him, telling him how hopeless he is but supporting him nevertheless every step of the way. He never understood how far under his skin you were. Neither of us did. And I can’t stand watching his shoulders fall, because he looks so broken, Newt. So I turn my head away and the guilt…the guilt is killing me. I want to tell him what I did, but what’s the point? He doesn’t deserve to lose another friend. I can feel you worry, but don’t; I have his back. My only wish is I could have done the same for you._

_We sleep in the same cabin, Minho and I. It’s small and cozy and you could call it luxury comparing to everything we’ve seen before. WICKED actually stocked sheets, blankets, and pillows, everything prepared for our arrival. Crazy, right? Saved by those who tortured us and those who took you away from us. Correction, I took you away from Minho. But they took you away from me._

_I’m trying to find a way to cope with the life here, Newt. God is my witness; I’m trying so hard. I’m not sure it’s working though. Brenda keeps saying that we cannot unseen what we have seen. I guess she’s right. Whenever I close my eyes, I see Chuck’s body in my arms, the blood, the tears and I feel the pain burning through me, clenching in my chest, like a threat to kill me. Then it calms down, but only for a minute._

_Teresa comes to my mind then. She died saving my life, you know. Crushed by the falling ceiling of the building she helped built; the building that brought us together and tore us apart. Our legacy, she called it. Our gift to humanity._

_Minho would say that it served her right (although we never talk about it). But you would understand, wouldn’t you? We do what we do to protect those we love. And sometimes the people we love the most are the ones holding the gun at the end. I guess that the fact I brought her to her end means she really cared. In her heart, she never betrayed me. She just loved me in a way I couldn’t understand. In my dreams, I get to tell her I understand now. I get to hold her and caress her hair and wipe her tears away and swear to her I believe her. And then she just disappears, without warning, just a whisper sounding like my name around me. I usually wake up in cold sweat then and I cry and Minho pretends to be asleep, because he doesn’t know how to deal with crying and neither do I._

_We never talk about those mornings, but secretly we both think the same thing. If you were here with us, you’d know what to say. You’d know how to pull me up when I fall, like you always did. I’m not sure I function properly anymore._

_Some nights it gets worse. I’ll tell you about those some other time._

_I think Brenda is calling me. She wants me to help her set up a council, to take decisions. She loves Minho, but she keeps saying democracy (or whatever) is the way to go._

_I don’t care about that anymore, Newt. I’m tired. And I miss you._

_I’m sorry. Did I already say that somewhere? I am sorry. I’ll always be._

_Yours truly,_

_Thomas.”_

 

It turns out Brenda is calling him and he goes out, trying to help her through the list of things she planned for them. The sun is still low but people are waking up. Minho is already out of the cabin and Thomas doesn’t blame him for not saying anything.

These days it feels like the barrier between them is growing thicker.

Brenda holds his hand and he lets her and it almost feels right during morning. At lunch though he sees two blond children playing next to the table and the boy has those big brown eyes and when he stares at Thomas, he has to shut his eyes not to cry.

Tears come anyway and he wipes them off with his free hand. Brenda lets go of him, without a word and his heart clenches because it’s like she knows exactly what he feels. He tries to shrug it off and tells himself that maybe a shared feeling is a lighter burden to carry.

It isn’t.

  
Brenda tries talking to him about it a couple of times but he smiles at her and even kisses her to make her drop the subject. She never mentions Newt’s name, but Thomas can feel it forming on her lips and it scares him. Nobody says his name anymore, not even Minho. And selfishly, Thomas wants to reserve this only for him, in those hours of the night when he cries himself to sleep and mumbles apologizes to his pillow over and over again.

It should be Paradise, he muses to himself one day, when he watches the children run around him in circles, laughing, flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. It should feel like home already and he should be happy, because he made it possible for all of them.

It should, but it doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to be the “bloody” hero anymore. He doesn’t want to be Thomas, the Final candidate (he isn’t but it sure feels this way). He wants to be Thomas, who is allowed to grief, to cry and to shut the world out, because the world hasn’t given him even half of what it’s taken from him.

He still plays with the kids until sundown, teaching them how to make stones look like jumping frogs in the water of the small river nearby (it’s a skill that he has from another life). They all seem happy and joyful and thank him a thousand times afterwards. It should feel good.

But it doesn’t.

He thinks he might never know happiness again, but when did he ever know it, really?

When he asks Minho about what it means to be really happy (one night, in the dark, when they both feel weary and he can actually sense Minho’s nostalgia), his friend doesn’t snort or laugh as expected. He actually gives him an answer and it sounds a lot like “Back in the Glade, when I had somebody to come back to.” Thomas’s been in the Glade only for a couple of weeks, but he knows what he means anyway.

 

He tries finding a job, but it’s harder than he thinks it would be. Everyone has their own thing to do. He stays with Frypan, trying to help in the kitchen, but is hopeless and his friend is so upset when he breaks yet another of their bowls that actually throws him out (with a smile and a “shank”, but it still sucks). Minho is not even in the camp most of the days anymore, he explores around with all those who would have been his Runners back in the Glade. They try to map the surroundings, find if they can expand their camp, see if the forest is a better place to hide during winter than the open valley where the wind is getting stronger by the day. Thomas wants to go with him, but he never says so and even when Minho finally asks him to join, he refuses. He doesn’t know why, but being around people he knows is getting harder.

He resolves to going to Gally and Harriet who organize the building of the cabins and he offers some help, even though it pains him even to look at Gally. Harriet though seems happy enough to have him around and takes him on a small trip to gather wood.

“How are you holding up, Thomas?” She asks, as if they are old friends and he looks at her perplexed, no answer coming to his mind. He’s fine, he wants to say, he sometimes even manages to avoid seeing his dead friends in his dreams. He’s fine, he wants to lie, he’s finally to Paradise, no more WICKED and no more pain.

“I’m trying to cope.”

She snorts.

“And how’s that working out for you?”

He doesn’t answer this time, because they both know it’s not working at all. He’s not coping, he knows. It’s been months and he’s still trying to figure out what to do with himself. He’s not Thomas who’s fighting anymore. He’s Thomas who’s living and it’s scarier than he’s even imagined.

“Look, Tom, if it’s okay to call you that”, it’s not, but he shuts his mouth anyway. “After the Maze, nothing is the same. Nothing makes sense, I guess. We’ve lost so much. So many of us, perished in those stupid Trials.” He must have flinched at that, guilt threatening to choke him, because Harriet touches his arm gently with a sigh. “Not your fault, alright? That’s what I keep telling Aris. Not your fuckin’ fault. You were kids. What I mean is that you can’t keep living in the past, because none of them are coming back. If you want to mope around about it, fine. But you’re still the Thomas who led us here. People look up to you and you don’t give us any hope. Man up.”

It’s supposed to be tough love, but it still hurts.

He nods anyway and Harriet seems happy enough so she lets go of him and leaves. He doesn’t follow her, but her words keep resonating in his mind all the way back to the cabin.

Minho’s not there so it’s easier to break down and cry himself to sleep.

  
______________

  
_“Dear Newt,_

_It’s day 126 in Paradise._

_Summer is fading away, but we are still safe. Still isolated from the real world and most of us are enjoying it. Should I say most of them? I don’t feel like part of the community anymore (hell, I’ve never felt like one, but let’s not go there)._

_Minho has been on a hunting trip for several days and sleeping alone is worse than I’ve ever imagined. The last time I felt this alone was when WICKED put me in that solitary room for 30 days, away from all of you. And when I was there, I swore I’d never let them take us apart anymore. That I’d hold on to you and Minho for dear life and I’d never let you out of my sight. How wrong was I though? You are gone and Minho and I, we barely talk to each other._

_I don’t want to complain anymore about my broken relationships. I broke them by myself and at least, it’s a new type of guilt craving around in my stomach. I don’t like it, but I’d choose it anytime over the guilt choking me when I think of you._

_And I think of you too much._

_Harriet said I should man up and lead them and give them hope. And I do want to. I want to be the one they need, but I can’t, Newt. I can’t do any of this anymore._

_I’m so tired._

_I want you to come, shake me up and tell me to slim it, because people are counting on me._

_But you’re not here. And I’m in my room and I’m avoiding everyone and Brenda thinks I’m going crazy. I’m not sure she’s wrong though; it’s the middle of the night, you’ll never read this and I miss you like crazy._

_My thoughts are a mess and I’m sure that nothing of this makes sense. I have to go try to get some sleep; my body hurts from too much staring at the ceiling._

_Don’t forget I’m sorry, Newt. I can’t live with myself… I just hope that in your last moments, you felt how much I cared. Scratch this, how much I care. Because I still do even though you’re not here._

_You’re probably laughing at me, you shank._

_I’ll try to sleep and not to dream of you._

_Yours truly,_

_Thomas.”_

 

He befriends the little blond boy with big brown eyes on the 156thday in Paradise.

The boy is sitting alone near the river, playing with stones, the same way Thomas showed him so many days ago. The hot days are gone and he’s wearing a sweatshirt that is too big for him.

Thomas has abandoned any hope to find an activity that doesn’t make him want to run home and he avoids everyone he knows (including Minho, but not Brenda) fiercely, because he’s not sure his heart can take another Harriet. There’s nothing someone can say that would bring the old Thomas back. He needs time to cope and to find how to live again, because he’s not sure his brain is whole. He knows for sure that his heart is not.

The boy looks up at him when he sits next to him and beams. It’s been such a long time that someone has beamed at him like this (maybe since his last carefree days at the Glade, when Newt would meet him and Minho at the gates with half-smile and glowing eyes that speak without words). Thomas smiles at the boy too.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Beanie.” The boy says, biting his lower lip. “No, it’s Nick, but everyone calls me Beanie, because I’m small as a bean, you see?”

Thomas wants to laugh but doesn’t, because the kid’s voice sounds so vulnerable. He is indeed small, but Thomas doesn’t know his age so he presumes that this might be normal. The boy is skinny, but not unpleasantly.

“Do you want to be called Nick or Beanie?”

The boy shrugs, eyes returning on the river and throwing another stone in it. They both follow the small jumps and everything feels so calm around them, Thomas finds it overwhelming.

“Beanie’s fine. “ He answers eventually. “Plus, Minho says that nicknames are cool. He says that he and his friend used to make those up for everyone, that it makes you feel closer to people.”

Thomas smiles widely and his cheeks hurt from the effort, because he hasn’t smiled that much in a long time. The boy is giving him those warm feelings and he tries to hold on to the emotion as long as he can.

“Beanie it is then. I’m Thomas.”

Beanie laughs and rolls his eyes.

“I know who you are, Thomas. You are my favorite Glader.”

Thomas isn’t all that surprised that the boy knows his name (apparently he’s been hanging out with Minho), but raises his eyebrows at the use of the word “glader”. It hits a bit too close to his heart and he has to take a deep breath, before smiling and asking what exactly does he mean. Beanie seems eager enough to tell him because he turns towards Thomas, tucking his legs underneath him. The last rays of sunshine radiate in his hair, making it look like gold. Thomas ignores the pain in his chest at the sight, pushing the memories in the back of his head.

“I’ve been hanging out with Minho a lot. The other boys are…not interested in having me around. “ Thomas’s heart aches at that but the boy doesn’t seem taken by the fact that the children don’t want to be friends with him. The brunet wants to extend his arms and tug him close, but Beanie continues without so much of a breath. “But Minho talks a lot and he talks about you and the Glade and the Maze and the good old days with “those shanks”.”

Thomas doesn’t answer, but he can imagine that Minho has a lot of stories to share. And when shutting out the world is his way of coping, maybe Minho’s is connecting to the past and to those he lost. Maybe the stories give him reassurance and hope. Maybe they remind him why they fight and why he had to get up and fight yet another day. Thomas wishes memories did that for him. Instead, he gets to cry and occasionally have panic attacks in the middle of the night. He can’t help but feel like he’s drawn the short stick.

While Thomas is lost in his own head, Beanie puts his hand in the pocket of his sweatshirt with a mischievous smile and takes out a small piece of aluminum. There’s something wrapped in it and it catches Thomas’s eye right away, making him curious. It’s an emotion he almost forgot he is able to experience. The boy brings a finger to his lips to silence any question and his brown eyes shine when he speaks in shushed voice.

“Minho gave this to me. It’s chocolate! They found some in the supplies and he got some for me.” Beanie is proud to say how much Minho cares and Thomas is reminded yet again that he has this great friend who is compassionate and funny and all he’s done is shut him out. He doesn’t agonize long though because the boy halves the chocolate and hands Thomas a piece. The brunet is so awed that he doesn’t react at first but the boy shoves it in his hands. “ Take it. Minho says it makes you feel better. Happier. You definitely need it.”

Thomas feels his eyes watering again (he doesn’t need to be reminded by everyone that he’s miserable, he knows it), but instead of crying, he takes the chocolate and puts a piece in his mouth with a grateful wink. He hopes his sadness isn’t creeping on his face, but he realizes he’s failing when Beanie bites his lower lip again and turns to face the water. Apparently their secret moment is over and Thomas doesn’t try to say something else.

Minutes pass and they both chew their chocolate in silence, until Beanie sighs and side-looks at Thomas.

“When he gave it to me, he ruffled my hair and said that chocolate was his friend’s favorite thing and that I remind him so much of him. Do you know whom he meant? Maybe I can find his friend and bring him to Minho, so he would be happy and proud of me.”

It’s the innocent remark that sends Thomas off the edge. He knows exactly whom Minho meant, because he still remembers very clearly how Newt talked about how he used to eat sweets when he was a kid one night around the fire in the Maze (when everything was still fine).

His eyes fill up with tears and this time he doesn’t hesitate, before pulling Beanie close for a hug. The kid is surprised but doesn’t back off and Thomas is so grateful his chest hurts. He understands what Minho means even more when Beanie starts patting his back in the most comfortable childish way possible and Thomas thinks of all those times Newt patted him on the back for encouragement. He cries even more.

From this moment on, he spends his days teaching Beanie everything he knows. They do drawings and alphabet and even some math. Thomas remembers surprisingly well all those classes he had at WICKED. He gives Beanie puzzles and the boy gets smarter by the day. Thomas can’t help but feel proud of him and his progress and like the pain preventing him to breath is getting lighter.

 

Minho finds them by the river one day, Beanie sleeping on Thomas’s knees while the latter tries to write something in his notebook. Thomas recognizes his friend’s silent footsteps (it aches him how well he still knows him) but doesn’t lift his head before Minho clears his throat.

They look at each other for a long moment before either speaks up.

“I’m glad you picked yourself up.” Minho says eventually and sends Thomas a wink. There are no smiles but it’s something.

Thomas wants to apologize but doesn’t. He’s not sure he has really picked himself up as Minho put it, but he’s getting better or at least he thinks he is.

He isn’t.

 

He wakes up one night panting, cold sweat on his forehead.

Minho is sleeping on the other end of the room, breath steady, one arm falling from the bed. Thomas wants to scream for him to wake up but he can’t, no breath coming in his lungs.

He remembers seeing a small blond kid in front of him, big brown eyes and golden hair. He’s wearing a hospital gown, too big for his small frame and he looks terrified when he asks what are they going to do to him. He starts screaming when a man in an all-white suit grabs him by the arm and mutters angry words under his breath. The boy’s eyes find Thomas’s and he cries and pleads, but they take him away and even though Thomas tries to run after him, strong arms have him around the waist and carry him in the other direction.

He remembers that the boy finds him later when they are both older and Thomas recognizes him instantly. The boy smiles but there are unspoken words in his eyes that sound a lot like: “You let them do this to me.”

He knows that was no dream but he can’t bring himself to tell anyone, let alone admit it to himself.

Minho wakes up from Thomas’s panting and fight for breath and holds his shoulders firmly, staring into his eyes and murmuring, “it’s not your fault” over and over again. The panic attacks rolls over eventually and Thomas cries hard into his pillow until he falls asleep. Minho doesn’t hold him, but pats his back a couple of times before going back to his own bed.

Thomas wants to beg for forgiveness because it’s entirely fault, but Minho just can’t know that.

 

He avoids Beanie for whole 3 weeks after that because those brown remind him too much of Newt and it’s too painful. He though he was getting better and dealing with the pain.

He wasn’t.

  
______________

  
_“Dear Newt,_

_It’s day 237 in Paradise and I’m still not coping (I’m trying but failing miserably)._

_I wish I knew how to let go._

_I wish someone taught me how to stop loving those who are gone. I wish someone prepared me for the pain of loss, but nobody did and I’m left with this anxiety and guilt and it’s slowly killing me._

_If I knew how it would be, I swear to you, Newt, I would have stayed in that collapsing building. I would have never crossed the Flat Trans because I’m half gone anyway. You all made sure of that, leaving me here alone._

_Those days, nightmares turn into memories._

_I often see you as a boy. We knew each other before, as you’ve suggested so many times. I’ve known you from the minute you set up your feet in WICKED, until the day we sent you to the Maze. We were friends before as we were friends after. I guess you can’t really escape the people you’ve loved. Maybe our brains didn’t know, but our hearts did. Mine sure did._

_There’s this memory that keeps coming back to me. We are both around 15 and we are standing in a closet, surrounded by old machines that WICKED doesn’t use anymore. You look at me with those brown eyes of yours, so hurt and so angry that your fists are trembling. I stay there, awaiting for you to hit me or shout at me or anything, mostly like the others did, but you don’t. You start crying and I make a move to hold you (it feels like I’ve done it a million times before), but you back away and the feeling that I’ll never get to hold you again sinks inside of me like a drowning ship. I say your name quietly and you snort before saying: “You let them to this to us, Tommy. To me. You are one of them, always will be, wouldn’t you? But you’ve got us all fooled, congrats. We actually trusted you. I bloody trusted you like I trust no one else. Thanks for nothing.” And you turn around and leave me._

_Like you left me now, you shank. Coping with a world I don’t want, without you. Trying to find strength to live, but struggling for every breath._

_I can’t even look at Beanie anymore, Newt. He’s too much like you (but he lets me hug him without questions)._

_I would never be able to stop missing you if you don’t leave my head alone._

_Let me move on, please?_

  
_Newt,_

_Don’t let me move on, ever. I have to be honest now. Remember when I said that some nights are worse than others?_

_It’s because I keep seeing your dead body and your voice saying my name for the last time. It’s the worst image in the world, because I know I did this to you. Guilt is choking me. Panic attacks flush all over me. I wake up screaming, pleading for you to come back to us (to me)._

_No, you know what. I don’t want you to know all of that._

_If you’re not coming back to me, please take me where you are?_

_Please._

_Newt,_

_I’ll never learn how to cope. I’ll never move on (it’s a scary thought but it’s the truth)._

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

_Yours truly (and forever, apparently),_

_Thomas. “_

 

Brenda gives him pills for the panic attacks without asking other questions and he’s so grateful, he hugs her for good 5 minutes before letting go. She seems to understand that the old Thomas is gone which is a relief and a curse at the same time. He wants her to believe in him like she always did because she gave him strength and courage and hope. But Brenda doesn’t radiate those emotions anymore and Thomas doesn’t know when things changed.

She even says that she can see if someone has experience with anxiety and insomnia to try to help him.

He declines and somehow, Brenda knows it’s because Thomas can’t share the pain with no one else.

He doesn’t want to.

 

One night, the panic attack gets bad.

He sits on the floor, back against his bedside, fighting with his body to breath. His lungs don’t seem to function, tears of fear and effort streaming down his face. Minho is kneeling in front of him, face worried. He doesn’t know what do to, Thomas can feel it. He doesn’t even know if there’s something to do, really. And the worst is, his fighting brain reasons, that if Newt was there with them, he would have come up with something, because he was the heart of all of this. Whatever it was.

Minho keeps saying his name and Thomas wants to answer, he does, but he can’t, he keeps shaking and the panic just doesn’t let go. He shuts his eyes, tries to imagine soothing colors and images, but nothing works, because all he sees is Chuck and Teresa and Alby, all giving him those disappointing looks, like they didn’t die for him to get depressed and anxious. They died for him to be able to breath.

Minho swears under his breath and runs out of the door and Thomas thinks that this is the end. Nothing is holding him anymore; even Minho is tired of him. He wants to shout for him to come back, but he can’t (and maybe it’s better, he can’t say goodbye to him too).

He opens his eyes, dark shadows dancing on the wall in front of him. Another try but his lungs don’t give out.

Alby. _I’m sorry, I failed you._

Chuck. _I miss you, buddy._

Teresa. _I understand now_.

He tries to picture their faces smiling, like they once were. He can almost feel Teresa in his mind again, a lingering touch in a storm of emotions. He still remembers the sensation of her thoughts on his being (even the planting images of small kisses). It’s like the spot in his brain that has been hers is still there, just hidden under a wall of pain and horror. He tries a deep breath, but chokes again.

Newt. _Come back to me_. He wishes he could call out his name, even if it for the last time.

He can almost hear Newt’s voice calling for him (or shouting at him, he’s not sure), like it’s coming from above. He wants to extend his hands and ask for a hug or just any sign of reassurance because he knows he can’t live with the guilt anymore.

Minho comes back eventually with Brenda on his tail. She is pale and only wearing pajamas when she kneels next to Thomas and start talking in his ear in a soothing voice. Her hand rubs circles on his back and he can feel himself relaxing under her touch. She keeps murmuring sweet nonsense and Minho is freezed above him, like an overprotective worried statue.

Two people that still care, he could feel it. And it gives hope to his troubled heart.

A couple of minutes later, he finally takes a breath. A real one, lungs full of it and he almost lets out a happy noise. Brenda smiles carefully and pulls him in a strong hug. He can hear Minho exhaling loudly, like he was holding back a breath too.

Brenda doesn’t leave that night and she lets him cuddle her back to sleep. It feels good and the panic doesn’t come back for the rest of the night (which is progress, he notes in the morning).

He has a new ritual. In most nights when he can’t sleep, he leaves the comfort of his bed and goes to find Brenda. If Jorge notices him entering their bunk in the middle of the night, he doesn’t comment on it and Thomas is grateful.

Brenda seems surprised by his visits at first but lets him in her bed. Sometimes they cuddle, sometimes they just lay there, touching from shoulders to toes and it soothes Thomas. It almost doesn’t feel right, but he accepts it because it’s a cure to his insomnia (most of the time) and he mumbles Newt’s name in his sleep less often (or he likes to believe so).

 

It’s not a solution, he realizes one day, when Brenda takes his hand in public and plants a firm kiss on his cheek. The gesture doesn’t make him blush and doesn’t send butterflies in his stomach, as it should. She is pretty and she loves him but he can’t bring himself to do the same.

It’s not that he doesn’t care, but something is missing.

He feels blank. He’s not sure he can feel anything remotely close to love or happiness anymore (because when he thinks about love, he also thinks about Teresa and seeing her kissing Aris and his heart breaks all over again; and when he thinks about happiness, he doesn’t see how he can achieve it with so many people missing from his life; well, one in particular).

He doesn’t tell Brenda, but tries to not go to her as often as before.

It doesn’t work.

 

One night, when they go to sleep together (because it just seems easier than sneaking up on her in the middle of the night), Thomas wakes up only minutes after closing his eyes.

His brain supplies images of two young boys, one blond and the other brunet, running around in a circle, both laughing hysterically. Thomas knows it’s himself and he recognizes Newt in an instant. Eventually he catches up with his friend and Newt lets himself be tackled on the floor, pinned between Thomas’s legs. They grin at each other before Newt lets out a huff. _“Get off me, Tommy. People might think you actually like like me.”_ He winks mischievously and Thomas blushes and gets up so quickly that he stumbles to keep on his feet. Newt laughs at him and says something that sounds a lot like _“That wouldn’t be too bad though.”_ They shrug it off easily when Minho enters the room with a wide smile.

It’s the worst memory until now. It’s not a nightmare anymore. It’s a happy memory and it’s the first one he gets. Thomas can’t help but feel like it’s a punishment. It’s not fait to remember what it’s like to feel when Newt is around (and what it’s like to hold him) and how easy it would have been to be around him every day of his life.

Tears stream down his face and soon enough he’s fighting for breath, his body entering another crisis. He screams and trashes around himself, because those memories are torture. He can’t live with those horrible brown eyes in his head anymore. He can’t bear it.

Brenda holds him through his sobs, silently, but he can feel the question on her lips. She thought he was getting better, he realizes. And then a couple of minutes later, he realizes he thought so too.

Hope is a traitorous feeling, he thinks, makes you believe in the impossible. He knows very well by now he’s never getting better. It’s as sure as the fact that Newt is never coming back (and maybe slightly related to it).

It feels like the guilt might suffocate him to death this time, so he resolves to talking.

“I lost him forever.” He chokes on his own words when he finds his ability to breath. His voice is unrecognizable through the tears but he knows Brenda can hear him. “I shot him and he’s never coming back, Bren. I…I… killed my friend, my…best friend. “ He swallows hard and it feels like his throat is closing. He thinks he might never be able to speak after this. “ ** _I killed Newt_**.” He whispers, but it’s clear in the silence of the night.

It’s the worst thing he has ever said. His heart breaks all over again, because there’s no coming back from it, once admitted out loud. He’s had the secret kept in his chest long enough. It was almost as if the fact would go away if he never talked about it. It was like he could keep the memory of Newt all to himself. Like they could both go on and live in those horrible memories in his head, just exist together, maybe in another universe, but still. He could still imagine a different outcome of their life, because his heart needs another version of the world in which they could be together.

Not anymore.

Brenda gasps, but doesn’t say anything in return and Thomas reasons that there’s actually nothing to say or do. It’s a fact, like any other. Only it’s a fact that is slowly killing him and he doesn’t know what to do. He looks at Brenda with teary eyes and she runs her fingers through his hair, trying to calm him down.

“It’s called mercy, Tom.”

He never though of it that way. But, his heart says in a beat, Newt didn’t need mercy. He needed love. And Thomas doesn’t know if he loved him enough (or too much).

He never goes to Brenda after that night and she never tries to take his hand again or kiss him. It’s like he put another wall between them by opening up. Thomas can’t say if he minds or not.

 

Everything gets worse (if possible).

Minho finds out about Newt from someone else.

Thomas isn’t even sure what’s worse anymore, what he’s done or that he’s losing his only friend over it. Both feel equally horrible.

Thomas doesn’t even know how it’s possible that the truth came to Paradise with them (Brenda is the only one who knows and she wouldn’t tell), but it’s there and Minho knows.

He finds him sitting on the floor of their cabin, back pressed against his bed, cheeks wet and eyes puffy from the crying. There are still tears in his eyes when he lifts his head to meet Thomas’s gaze. Thomas’s stomach sinks and it that moment, he knows that the secret is out.

“Tell me you didn’t do this to him. Please.”

Minho’s voice is broken and hoarse, like he’s been crying for hours. Thomas wants to turn around and run away because he can’t take the conversation, but his feet stay planted on the ground.

“I did. He asked me to.”

He doesn’t say he didn’t have a choice because he did. He still remembers Newt’s trembling hands on his throat, the blood, the madness, the horrible words spit out of his friend’s mouth. He remembers the pleading, the last look of sanity, he remembers the way Newt said his name and it haunts him everyday. But he knows he had a choice and he’s not going to lie to Minho. He’s been hiding it long enough.

Minho squeezes his hands in fists and Thomas hopes that he’s just going to get up and punch him in the face. He hopes Minho would punish him, because he can’t seem to punish himself enough in order to move on (never moving on, his brain supplies). He tries not to tremble when his friend comes closer to him, pain spread all over his face.

“He trusted you with his life.” Minho’s words are quiet, but Thomas hears him nevertheless; he wishes he didn’t. “He would have died for you, if you asked. In a heartbeat.” Please, Thomas wants to beg, hit me or break my legs, but stop talking about him. He doesn’t even make a sound though and Minho shakes his head, tears rolling from his eyes. “Whatever he said, Thomas, he didn’t deserve this! You…how could you?”

It’s a real question, Thomas realizes after a minute of silence. Minho is still crying, but staring at him at the same time. Thomas feels smaller under his friend’s broken gaze and his cheeks become wet within a number of seconds. It’s not unnatural for him to cry over Newt; it’s actually a habit by known and strangely, it soothes him.

“I wish I could have died for him.”

It’s a horrible confession, but it’s one that he’s been repeating in his head over and over again. He doesn’t know if it’s helping the situation at all, but at least it’s the truth. And this is something he’s been hiding from Minho long enough.

“I wish I was with him, every day. “

Minho snorts and even then, Thomas can feel the disappointment and the pain. He wants to scream at Minho and explain that his heart is broken too, that he can’t get any sleep and that there’s not a day that passes when he doesn’t think of Newt and if there was something else he could have done, he would have. But he stays silent instead, because he deserves Minho to be upset with him. He deserves all the insults and the horrible talk and even the punches, if they ever come, because it’s part of the burden of the pain. The pain is a friend by now; at least, it reminds him that the feeling of Newt is still alive.

“He meant the world to me. He was all I’ve had left. “ Minho says after, gaze tearing away from Thomas. He makes a few steps backwards and tries to wipe the tears of his face. His lower lip trembles when he tries to speak. “And you meant the world to him. The irony.”

“He meant the world to me too.”

His voice is hollow and he doesn’t even recognize it, but the words come out anyway. He means it. He knows by now that Newt had this special place in his heart and it’s not like Chuck or Teresa. It’s more, it’s like an essential piece of the puzzle and without it, nothing is complete. Ever.

“You have a lot of courage claiming that when you are the one that made sure we never see him again.”

Thomas doesn’t answer this time, the venom in Minho’s voice spreading around them. There’s nothing he can say that will change Minho’s mind. He feels betrayed and lied to and he has every right to be pissed off, because Thomas did made sure Newt is not coming back to them. He made sure that Minho never gets to laugh with him again or enjoy the sarcastic grin and the glowing brown eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He tries lastly, before turning around and although Minho shouts after him that it’s not over and then actually throws a chair at the wall, Thomas stumbles away from the cabin and into the night.

He feels even emptier than before if possible. The last thing he remembers from that night is crying Newt’s name and cursing in the same time, angry at the world for not letting him be happy and hating himself for loving someone who’s gone.

There was no greater misery, really. Being left in the world where there was no Newt.

 

He doesn’t go back to their cabin for the next couple of weeks. He doesn’t even see Minho around and Brenda tells him that he left on a trip with a couple of boys and he’s not coming back soon. They want to go as far as possible before winter hits them and makes them stay at one place. Thomas knows it’s an excuse to get away from him, but agrees when Brenda tells him it was a really important trip that had to be made.

Thomas actually stays with Gally for a while. His former Glader-enemy gives him a jar full of liquid every night, to ease his pain. He drinks until he can no longer cry and Gally pats his back. He says that he knows what’s it’s like to feel guilty and not be able to live with yourself.

Thomas wants to laugh at him most of the time, but never actually does (maybe he finds comfort in the words anyway). Gally cannot possibly know what’s it’s like to live with the memories of happiness that you could have had but took away from yourself and how it feels to dream every night of a person that is never coming back; what it’s like to have so much death on your behalf and even then, not finding the strength to live for those who sacrificed themselves; what it’s like to look at the boy you’ve went through hell with and see only disappointment and pain because you took one of the most important people in his life.

No, Gally doesn’t know what it’s like to be Thomas every day.

But that’s okay because Gally has alcohol and Thomas loves the numbness. It lets him wander in his mind, remembering the times when he had Newt for himself and when he could still smile around Minho.

It’s a bliss, he thinks. A gift.

He still writes letters to Newt though, just because he doesn’t want to forget what it’s like talking to him (and while writing, it’s so easy to imagine Newt pulling faces on his confessions and sometimes, if he tries hard enough, he can feel a firm kiss on his forehead when he pushes the paper under his pillow).

  
______________

_“Dear Newt,_

_It’s day 303 in Paradise._

_Come back to me (maybe if I write it a thousand times, you will)._

_Nothing is getting better._

_I told Brenda. Minho somehow found out and he hates me now (I hate myself too). Don’t say he can’t hate me, please. He loved you too much. He doesn’t feel complete without you and I totally understand it, because neither do I. And neither of us knows how to function properly. At least he’s found someone to blame about it. I prefer to think that it’s better this way; that at least he knows why you’re not here with us, to wake us up with curses in the morning and give us soft glances in the evening, when you check on us to see if everything is alright (like you used to do. God, I miss you)._

_And I….well, I have another trigger to the pain that’s only mine. Sometimes when I try to blame everything on WICKED or the Flare, the thought of Minho’s horrified look reminds me that it’s me who brought you to your end, not them. I have only myself to blame that I’ll never get to hold you anymore, I’ll never hear your voice and I’ll never get to tell you about all those things we’ve been through before the Maze._

_All the memories keep coming back, Newt._

_And I know now. I know why you’ve always felt so close, why I trusted you instantly. Why I need you to be able to breath._

_You were my first real friend (your words, not mine). You were always the one I cared about the most. You were the light in my dark days. I was in love with you (it’s as simple as that, really). Before and after the Maze. I still am and it’s the worst realization in the world because there is no way I’m moving on without you and you are not coming back._

_Minho said that you would have died for me in a heartbeat, without questions._

_I wish I could have died for you to live, Newt. I wish I shot myself after what I did to you. I would never forgive myself, never. I can’t._

_But I’ll soon be with you._

_I have to._

_There’s nothing really left for me out here, you know? I keep thinking that if we just have gotten our memories back when we had the chance, we would have ended up in a different place. Maybe you would be here with us, maybe you would have fought harder for your own life. Maybe I would have found a way to cure you._

_Maybe you would have loved me back._

_(I know you did, I’m sorry. I know now, Newt, how were we so blind?)_

_Gally is sharing his new recipe with me (every night). He lets me get shitfaced and then helps me to bed. He ignores me crying out for you and Minho. He acts like he doesn’t hear me when I whisper apologizes during the night. So he lets me drink and it makes me forget._

_There are nights I don’t see your face anymore, I sleep…at peace. There’s no Teresa or Chuck haunting me. There’s no you, Newt._

_I HATE IT._

_I’m not letting go of those images of you. I don’t want to forget your face or your voice. If it means it’s going to hurt like crazy, then let it be. I’ll take Brenda’s judgmental look and Minho’s disappointment and Gally’s pity any day. I’ll do anything for you to come back to me._

_Don’t love me back. Don’t even let me touch you._

_Just come back, you shank._

_(You can’t, I know. I’m coming to you.)_

_I love you. I’m sorry._

_Yours forever,_

_Thomas. “_

 

Sonya finds him one day by the river, trying to get himself drunk in 7 in the morning, which is nothing unusual. Gally has talked to Brenda and they both try to make him stop drinking, but he knows where Frypan keeps the drinks and steals some everyday. He hides the jars by some rocks on the riverside, the same ones that he and Beanie sat on when they shared the chocolate (and talked about Newt).

First thing he sees is that Sonya’s blond hair is shorter than he remembers, only lightly touching her shoulders. She still has a pretty face, Thomas observes, as she sits next to him and scolds closer. She doesn’t touch him though so he forbids himself to flinch away.

“Minho told me about Newt.”

It’s the worst way to start the conversation.

Thomas’s breath cuts short and he looks at her with pleading eyes. He hopes she understands from his look he doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want some unfamiliar girl to mend his relationship with his best friend. He doesn’t want to mention Newt anymore (at least not while he’s sober and too aware).

“They gave me back my memories, you know.” She says after a while, playing with some sticks, trying to make a whole in the ground and her lower lip trembles a bit when she speaks She’s in distress, Thomas realizes numbly, but doesn’t try to touch her (because who is he fooling, he is no position to comfort anyone). “In the WICKED compound, when you refused to do it.” Thomas tries to breath normally again, but still doesn’t want to hear any of this.

“He was my brother, you know. “

The words are almost a whisper but he hears them anyway and gasps.

His brain doesn’t pick up right away, but Sonya straightens and looks him directly in the eye.

“I don’t remember much.” She says with a firm tone this time, no more trembling around “ But from what I know, he was brave. And smart. And caring. And he always put everyone else first. So if he loved you, he had a reason. If he asked you to do it, he wanted it. He trusted you and you didn’t disappoint him. I’m sure you didn’t. I tried explaining this to Minho, but he’s being stupid and stubborn.”

Thomas doesn’t know what to say or how to react, because he hears the words but his senses don’t catch up at all. It’s like his heart doesn’t beat and the blood doesn’t flow in his veins anymore.

“You don’t hate me?”

It’s the worst question that comes out of his mouth and Sonya lets a humorless laugh, before shaking her head.

“What you did, Thomas, only proves that you loved him more than you love yourself. And I’m grateful for that. My brother wouldn’t have wanted us to watch him go crazy or try to harm us. I…I…”, she takes a deep breath. “I just wished I’ve had the chance to tell him I remember him. That I love him. To say goodbye, you know?”

I know, he wants to say. Because he does.

“It’s the worst thing after all.” He mumbles finally, his voice trembling. Sonya looks at him, tears on her face and he laces their fingers together, because for the first time, he feels like he really shares the pain. The love and the pain. It makes him go weak. “To be left on Earth while another is gone.”

Sonya pulls him into a hug with a sob and he doesn’t know how long they stay like that.

Eventually they pull apart and when Sonya asks him to tell her everything about her brother, he obliges without a second thought (even if he’s being selfish about it).

 

The presence of Sonya around him becomes a usual thing. She introduces him to her friends that are left from Group B and tells him all kinds of stories from the Maze. She is a sweet girl, talkative but distant at times and Thomas can’t help but feel that she’s too much like her brother.

He’s not sure he can handle her for more than a couple of hours a day and Sonya seems to get that, because there are times when she just walks away, no goodbyes or kind words. She knows what’s it’s like to be hurting and apparently, she understands there’s no way she can make it better for Thomas.

Both of them need to find a way to deal with the pain.

Thomas’s way revolves around drinking.

 

Eventually, it gets really bad. He starts vomiting during the day, when he can’t find a drink around him. It happens one time when he’s with Sonya on a walk and she is pale and scared, when she takes him to the med jacks to check him up.

His liver is failing, says the modern medical equipment WICKED has supplied for them.

He’s taking all his pain medication and the anti-depressants, mixing it all with alcohol on a daily basis and apparently, his body is not taking it well.

Thomas has to stop, they tell him, when they let him leave.

He promises he will, but when he gets out of the medical cabin, he heads straight for the cupboard where Frypan holds the liquor. It doesn’t even take him two hours before he’s in his blissful state again.

 

Brenda gets really worried the next time he starts vomiting, because it’s only alcohol mixed with blood. She has him under supervision for 48 hours and it’s the most dreading period in Thomas’s life since he’s found Gally’s recipe. He keeps trashing in his sleep, mumbling names of dead friends and the medications that they’re giving him are not helping.

He just wants to forget and go to his happy place, where he can only remember the good times he had with Newt. He wants to be in the universe where they get to be together and watch Chuck run around Paradise, cracking jokes. It’s the only universe he wants to live in, really.

Brenda manages to convince Minho to come visit him, while he’s sober, which is a bad idea to begin with. His friend looks slimmer, like he’s lost a couple of pounds. He has dark circles under his eyes and he’s not wearing his trip clothes. It means he’s staying for a couple of days, at least.

Minho sits next to his bed, on the floor and shakes his head when his eyes meet Thomas’s. Thomas winces. He can’t speak, because they’ve put a tube in his mouth to pump out the alcohol from his stomach (he secretly hopes they won’t be able to), but even if he did, he’s not sure what would he say. There was nothing really left.

“You slinthead.” Minho’s voice is full of pity and Thomas hates it immediately. He’ll gladly be hated any day instead of being pitied. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Thomas? Brenda says you’re making your liver fail.” He purses his lips and his eyes drop, like he’s too scared to look at Thomas for what he’s about to say. “If it’s because of Newt, you need to stop. Like right now, okay?” It’s a soft remark, but it makes Thomas want to cry. He needs people to stop saying his name. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to do this. He would have wanted you to live… He would have hated it, being the reason for your misery.”

Thomas starts crying this time, even without realizing it. He knows all of that. He knows Newt so well (now more than even, his brain supplying new memories almost every week).

Minho continues though, brushing his thumb against Thomas’s cheek to wipe out the tears. It’s a strongly comforting gesture, Thomas finds.

“I know he asked you to do it. I know you were brave and you loved him enough to do it, okay? I’m not mad at you.” He takes a deep breath. “Love him enough again and pick yourself up. You’re not dying on me. He would come back and kill me himself if I let you do that. “

And then he leaves and Thomas’s body enters a series of convulsions that bring all the medics back. They put him under general anesthesia and it’s the best sleep he’s gotten since they got to Paradise.

 

He remembers all too well asking Teresa to cover for him so he can sneak up in the boys’ dormitory. It’s 3 a.m. and he’s in the empty hallway, but he still needs Teresa to keep an eye on the guards for him. They are prisoners and he knows it. When he reaches the door to room 7, he’s so relieved that he lets out a small sigh before entering. He cuts Teresa off his mind, because he has to be alone for what he’s about to do.

Newt and Minho are there, playing cards in the middle of the room. Newt is laughing at something while Minho’s pouting and mumbling insults under his breath. They both seem unaware of Thomas’s presence, which is perfect.

“Tommy!” Newt sees him first and gets up, pulling Minho with him. They both beam at him and Thomas’s heart starts beating faster.

“Could you come with me for a second?” He says, looking directly at Newt who exchanges a side-glance with Minho before nodding. The tone in Thomas’s voice supposes it’s important so Newt doesn’t oppose when they go out in the hallway and into the first closet on the right. It’s a tiny room, but they still don’t touch. Newt asks for the lights but Thomas ignores him, clearing his throat.

“I saw your file”, he admits after a minute of silence and he can practically see Newt frowning at him, which makes him chuckle softly. “It’s your birthday, you shank.” He’s found just a couple of hours ago and he wants to be the first to say happy birthday to Newt. He’s turning 14 today and it feels like something they should celebrate.

“Yeah.” Newt admits with a shrug. “It’s another day in the compound, Tommy. Why did you have to come all this way to remind me of it? Aren’t you supposed to have your own elite chambers?” He says it with a smirk, so Thomas knows it’s a joke, but it still stings a bit. He pouts and extends his arm to get Newt’s hand into his. His friend is warm and it sends shivers down his spine.

“You know I would stay with all of you if I could. I’d stay with you all the time.”

Newt chuckles but nods anyway.

“Sure you will, you big sap.”

They both laugh this time, but Thomas doesn’t let go of his hand anyway. His heart pounds in his chest, so fast he’s not sure he’ll survive this moment.

“Happy birthday, Newt.”

His voice is quiet but he knows Newt hears him and when he looks up at him with wide brown eyes, there is only one thing left to do. He leans in and presses their lips together. It’s as perfect as everything he has ever imagined (maybe even more).

When he wakes up in the sweaty sheets in the medical cabin, his chest feels hollow and his face is wet with tears. It’s the worst and the best memory of his life.

 

He asks for a pen and a paper. His liver is still failing so he can’t leave the cabin, but he needs to do something with his days. Sonya comes to visit almost every day, talking about everything and nothing at all. She doesn’t mention her brother and Thomas is grateful for the gesture, because he knows it must be difficult for her to avoid the subject. She tells him that everyone is really worried about him and even though the medjacks don’t know how to fix his liver, they are trying. He nods and agrees with her when she promises they’ll find a way. They both know it’s not true.

Minho stays with him every night. He holds Thomas’s hand when he wakes up during one of his nightmares and tells him stories from the maze to ease him back to sleep. He avoids talking of Newt as much as he can, but they both soon realize it’s impossible, because they’ve shared everything. Soon hearing Minho say Newt’s name doesn’t hurt that much. It’s the best progress he’s made since arriving in Paradise.

Brenda doesn’t come to visit him even once, which Thomas fully understands, even though it hurts.

 

When the medjacks finally send him to their cabin with a ton of medication and a promise to never drink again, Thomas feels better than before, but not cured.

He doesn’t keep his promise though. He finds Gally exactly 7 weeks and 4 days after he leaves the medical cabin and the other Glader doesn’t say a word when he hands him the jar with the golden liquid in it.

The worst part is, Minho seems aware of his downfall. They engage in a couple of shouting sessions in their cabin and his friend keeps saying that it’s not what Newt have wanted. He’s right, Thomas knows, but he doesn’t care anymore. Newt’s not there to want anything (which is the problem, really).

Minho is unable to make Thomas do anything, they both know it.

The only person who could have is gone for good now.

  
______________

  
_“Dear Newt,_

_This might be the last letter I write to you._

_It’s day 478 in Paradise. And I’m dying._

_It’s weird to write it down, but I am. My liver is failing and there’s no way they are going to save it. Medications and alcohol apparently destroy you. But I guess it wasn’t what I did, but what we did together that finished me in the end. I guess it was because I loved you too much but neither of us was smart enough to want to remember that. It’s fine, baby, I’m coming now. I’m almost there with you (I can’t wait)._

_I really hope I end up where you are, because I can’t stand another moment in “Paradise” without you._

_Just so you know, people are fine. Community is forming. Babies are getting born. Minho has a girlfriend (do you remember Harriet?). Brenda almost acknowledges my presence nowadays. It’s fine, Newt, the world is fine. They are going to keep on living, WICKED found a way to preserve humanity, even without the cure. Even without you._

_The thing is, I didn’t find a way to preserve myself. The guilt, Newt, it’s unbearable. I hope you’re not too upset with me and when I finally see you, you’ll roll your eyes at me and you’ll pull me in for a hug (and maybe a kiss, if we get to that). There wasn’t any way to forget the world before Paradise. I’m not Minho or Gally. I’m not Brenda. I don’t know how to deal and cope._

_The best thing about this world, Newt, is that I get to see your sister. Your baby sister. Sonya. Do you remember her now? (Do you remember everything where you are? The good, the bad, us?). She certainly remembers you and that makes two of us who desperately miss you in their lives. She’s smart and witty and brave and you’d be so proud of her. I only wish you would have remembered her while you were still here. She says you two were really close as kids. I believe her. She’s perfect and she’ll be fine. I kind of have a feeling she’s destined to be great (and so were you)._

_I’m ready to be with you, but mostly I’m ready not to deal with pain and loss and death anymore._

_I’m ready to remember what it’s like to love and be loved and what it’s like to feel like the world makes sense again. You are going to give me a purpose again, Newt (What am I saying, you always gave me a purpose, that’s why I’m so lost)._

_I’m going to hug you and kiss you and remind you of all those times we hid in the dark corners of the hallways in the WICKED compound, flushed and pressed against each other. I’m going to tell you all about our first kiss, our first fight and our first…well, everything. Even if you don’t remember it, I’ll make you relive it. I’m going to tell you I love you every day, because I never got to that in the this apocalyptic world._

_Listen to me, my liver is failing. They can’t transplant me a new one._

_I’m dying._

_But I’m fine. I’m finally able to breath. I’m waiting for something._

_I’m waiting for you, babe._

_(Or you are waiting for me, but anyway)._

_You are going to smile at me and I’ll find out the world is okay again. I’ll be me and you’ll be you and in the universe where an “us” is possible, we’ll be fine again._

_I’m not sorry anymore, Newt._

_I know now that what I did to you was right, because that’s what you wanted and needed at the time. I’m only sorry for the time we wasted and for how oblivious we were. I’m only sorry I never got to hold you one last time before you left._

_Minho will miss us, Newt. But Sonya will be there for him (she promised)._

_Tell Chuck to throw me a party, yeah? And Alby can give me the tour again, like in the good old days. Is Teresa there? (I mean, did she go to your Paradise?) If she is, tell her I’m coming and that we can rebuild our friendship. Tell them all that I’m coming for you, Newt._

_I keep vomiting blood and I’m coughing and they don’t give me any alcohol anymore._

_The end is close._

_I love you._

_Yours truly and forever,_

_Thomas.”_

 

Minho finds the letters under Thomas’s pillow 11 days after they buried his friend’s body near the rocks by the river. Beanie insisted it was his favorite place and Minho didn’t have a choice but to agree.

He reads them one by one and he cries from the begging till the end. It hurts him to know how much Thomas felt and didn’t share. It makes his knees weak and his stomach tied up in a knot. He wishes he listened more, he wishes he noticed how broken and lost his friend has been.

Beanie looks over his shoulder the whole time and Minho lets him, because he doesn’t know how to deal with the pain of losing yet another person. The boy hugs him tightly, his arms too short to circle all his waist, but Minho appreciates the effort anyway. They stay silent for a bit, before Beanie sighs.

“You should write to them too.” He says silently. “They would want to know you’re fine. They would want to know you understand.”

It’s an advice Minho is more than inclined to follow.

 

_“Dear Newt (and Thomas),_

_I hope you shanks are doing alright. I miss you every day. Newt, you slinthead, you should have said goodbye. Thomas, you should have talked to me more. I would have listened. I also had your back (as you had mine)._

_I understand though. I’m not blaming anyone._

_The heart wants what it wants, yeah?_

_I’m hoping your Paradise is just above mine and that you’re both smiling at me right now._

_Don’t get married before I get there, yeah? I wouldn’t miss it for the world._

_You were the best friends someone could have asked for. I hope you know._

_Yours truly (and forever, yes, Thomas),_

_Minho.”_


End file.
